


bitter dreams

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Jaskier learned something very soon after joining Geralt on his travels:The Witcher had nightmares – constantly. At first, Jaskier hadn’t known what to do. He’d sit up in the dark and watch Geralt as he grumbled and tossed in his sleep, and sometimes he’d even cry. Like real tears, and Jaskier would hold his breath, feeling like the worst person in the world for not doing anything but what was he supposed to do?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 610





	bitter dreams

**Author's Note:**

> for day 4 of geraskier week: hurt/comfort 
> 
> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

Jaskier learned something very soon after joining Geralt on his travels:

The Witcher had nightmares – _constantly_. At first, Jaskier hadn’t known what to do. He’d sit up in the dark and watch Geralt as he grumbled and tossed in his sleep, and sometimes he’d even _cry_. Like real tears, and Jaskier would hold his breath, feeling like the worst person in the world for not doing anything but what was he supposed to do?

Wake him, and deal with the aftermath that would surely be Geralt angrily denying all of it?

So after that, he simply ignored them.

Until, well –

They were in the woods and it was dark and cold and Jaskier had convinced Geralt to sleep closer to him, their bodies slotted together for warmth. Jaskier was fast asleep, dreaming of good things, when Geralt startled him out of his slumber.

He was thrashing around in his sleep, eyes squeezed shut. Jaskier quickly noticed the sweat droplets on his forehead. His stomach lurched at the sight.

But it was nothing new. He’d seen the same sight many nights.

Still it was hard to bear witness to Geralt’s suffering, especially when he pretended to be so – so _strong_ during the day. Not that he wasn’t, of course. Geralt was the strongest person Jaskier had ever met, but he was still just, well, not _human_. But a being, perfectly capable of feeling all the good and bad emotions that came with breathing.

Like pain and suffering and regret.

Jaskier watched him for a moment longer, debating what to do. Then, like magic, Geralt settled down. He stopped thrashing around, quieted down. Jaskier nodded, once, to himself and went to lay back down, hoping for a few more hours of sleep when –

Geralt let out a howl of pain, still deep asleep, and Jaskier reached for his chest before he could think better of it. He pressed his hand over his heart, hard, and Geralt opened his eyes with a gasp, sitting up. Jaskier’s hand fell away.

“Wh – ” he started, catching his breath. His eyebrows furrowed and he wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, a weird tilt to his lips. “What the fuck?”

He was staring at Jaskier for the answer. Jaskier swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um.” His eyes flickered down to Geralt’s mouth, unable to look him in the eyes. “You were, um, having a nightmare,” he said, a bit squeaky.

It was silent for too long. He looked back up, slow. Geralt’s expression was perfectly blank.

“What?” Geralt said, gruff. “But I don’t – ”

“You do,” Jaskier interrupted, not unkindly and without thinking. “Like, almost every night.”

Geralt stared at him again, saying nothing. Jaskier shifted awkwardly. “Huh,” Geralt said finally, lacking any real emotion. Then he asked the question Jaskier had been hoping he wouldn’t, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jaskier had no real answer, which was the problem. He fidgeted with his hands, pointedly not looking at Geralt. “I don’t know,” he answered, honest. “I just assumed, um, you’d probably not react very well,” he admitted.

“Hmm,” was his reply. Not very comforting.

Jaskier looked up, “I thought you’d be more… I don’t know. Difficult about it, like deny it and stuff.”

Geralt shrugged, and for a moment he just looked _so tired_ , dark eyes under his eyes, lines around his mouth, “This probably explains why I never feel very rested,” he said, obviously aiming for light but the words fell flat, too honest.

“Is there – ” Jaskier started over, “Can I help?”

Geralt looked at him like he was crazy. “Why would you do that?”

Jaskier almost snorted because surely Geralt wasn’t still under the impression they weren’t friends, “Because I care about your well-being?” he said, then because he felt like he needed to be honest, “And… Well, I know how exhausting nightmares can be.”

Geralt could be surprisingly predictable, “You do?”

“Long story,” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes, “ _Embarrassing_ story.”

The corners of Geralt’s mouth quirked up, “Now you _have_ to tell me.”

Jaskier sighed dramatically, like sharing this was such a hardship (it both was, and wasn’t), “I was bullied a lot as a kid, Geralt,” he said, trying to keep most of his emotions in check, “I wasn’t exactly like the _other_ boys. I liked music and, well, I liked other boys, too. Where I grew up, that wasn’t exactly the norm and it wasn’t always respected.”

Geralt watched him, silent but intent. Jaskier fidgeted with his hands and continued, “So, I had nightmares a lot growing up. Some good dreams, too, of a future… well, like _this_ ,” he said with a playful grin. Geralt snorted, obviously not believing him but that’s okay. “But mostly nightmares. It was exhausting. It was like I could sleep for days on end and get no real rest.”

He finished by licking his lips and saying, “But I’m assuming it’s a lot different for you.”

Geralt shrugged, a sharp jerky movement, “What do you mean?”

“A kid being bullied, and, um… A Witcher are on two very different ends of – ” Jaskier gestured widely “ – the scale.”

Geralt snorted again, more amused than anything, “The scale?” he repeated ludicrously. “What scale?”

Jaskier pouted, folding his arms. “I don’t know, _the_ scale.”

“Convincing,” he remarked dryly.

Jaskier smacked his arm and then felt giddy to know he could do that and not get punched. Geralt just shook his head, looking amused.

“Do you, uh… want to try to sleep again?” Jaskier asked after a moment, unsure of what to expect as an answer.

Geralt surprised him by leveling him with an intense, serious look, “I remember.”

“Uh,” Jaskier said, “Okay. Going to need a little more details, Geralt.”

Geralt breathed out, hard, through his nose, “What I was dreaming about.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathed, for once at a loss for words. But he had to do better; Geralt needed him to _be_ better. He needed his comfort, and he wanted to give it. “Do you… want to talk about it?” He searched Geralt’s face, always so closed off, “We don’t have to, but if you _want_ to, I’m all ears.”

Geralt surprised him again by saying, “I’d only been a Witcher for a few years.”

Jaskier stiffened, a little afraid to hear the rest of the story but he braved it. For Geralt.

“I was in the woods and heard a scream,” he continued, not looking at Jaskier, “I ran toward it, of course. It was a young girl. No older than – ” Geralt paused, closing his eyes. “Ten or eleven, probably. She looked at me with these, uh, big eyes – ”

Jaskier had never heard Geralt say so much at once. He listened intently. It was the least he could do.

“And she begged me to help her, Jaskier,” he said, almost growling. “I reached for my sword but I wasn’t fast enough. They killed her.”

Jaskiet let out a soft wounded noise and reached for Geralt’s hand without even thinking about it. Geralt jerked at the initial contact before grunting and turning his hand over. Jaskier blinked, surprised, and slowly intertwined their fingers.

“A monster?” he asked knowingly, but then Geralt’s eyes flashed with anger,

“Humans,” he snarled.

Jaskier’s heart dropped to his stomach. He squeezed Geralt’s hand. “Oh, _Geralt_ ,” he said before stopping himself, biting the inside of his cheek. He knew Geralt did not want pity, but it was so hard. Jaskier did what he could and simply squeezed Geralt’s hand again.

“Do you… dream about her a lot?” he asked, soft.

Geralt shrugged sharply. “Not so much anymore,” he answered, “But sometimes.”

Jaskier nodded, silent, and stoked the back of Geralt’s hand with his thumb. There were even small scars on his hands. Like every other part of his body.

“I killed them,” Geralt said, startling Jaskier out of his thoughts.

“What?” he asked before he could even try to connect the dots.

Geralt smiled, a dark, ugly thing, “I killed the men who killed her. I didn’t even think about it. I just – opened my eyes and they were at my feet.”

Jaskier frowned, “You did the right thing. They were murderers, Geralt, and targeting a child, no less.”

“There was a guy,” Geralt said, “A human.”

Now he was _definitely_ losing Jaskier but he didn’t push for more information, just listened silently. He trusted Geralt would tell what he needed to know.

“I can’t even remember his face, not after all these years,” Geralt continued, perfectly even, “We met in a port town and he was a lot like you.”

Jaskier smiled for the briefest of seconds, “Charming and talented?”

Geralt snorted, turning to look at him, “Naive and weak.” He said _weak_ like it wasn’t an insult, just a fact of life, so Jaskier pushed down the hurt and just nodded, listening. “We slept together.”

Jaskier was surprised by the admission. Geralt had mentioned having an interest in men and women, but Jaskier had never actually _seen_ him sleep with a man. He was not judging, of course. He waited to see if Geralt would say anything else and when he didn’t, he squeezed his hand, eyes soft.

“What happened, Geralt?”

Geralt jerked almost like he’d been somewhere else, coming back to himself, “He wanted to accompany me on my travels and I told him he was an idiot. Told him what we did together didn’t mean anything to me.”

Jaskier frowned, searching Geralt’s face – his mouth was a thin, firm line, eyebrows pinched, “I left in the middle of the night. It was only later that I found out he’d tried to follow to catch up to me.” Geralt paused, licked his lips, “He was killed. I don’t know if it was humans or a monster, but.” He shrugged, “He died because of – ”

“No,” Jaskier said, firmly. He reached up with his free hand and cupped the side of Geralt’s face. Geralt’s eyes widened, just barely. “You are not at fault for the actions of others. He should’ve respected your decision and – ”

Geralt was smirking.

“What?” he asked, biting his tongue.

Geralt tilted his head, “Just ironic, hearing that from _you_.”

“Okay, fuck off,” Jaskier said with the tiniest hint of a smile, “I am trying to be a _good friend_.”

Geralt leaned into his touch. He just kept surprising him. Jaskier’s heart drummed loudly behind his ribs. “I know,” he said, gruff, “I just don’t know what you get out of this.”

And if _that_ wasn’t the saddest thing Jaskier had ever heard. “I get to make my friend feel better,” he whispered, “That’s a reward in and of itself.”

“I’m just so exhausted, Jaskier,” he said, eyelashes fluttering, “I’m tired of seeing their faces when I close my eyes. The guilt – sometimes I think it’s going to eat me alive.”

It was the most honest he’d ever been with Jaskier and he was not going to let him regret it. “I have an idea,” he said and released Geralt’s hand, readjusting on the blanket. “Okay,” he said. “Head in my lap.”

Geralt stared at him like he was out of his mind, and maybe he _was._ But he had to try something. “Head in lap,” he repeated impatiently, patting his thighs.

“This is stupid,” Geralt grumbled even as he shifted, laying down with his head in Jaskier’s lap.

Jaskier beamed and gently removed the tie from Geralt’s hair.

“What are you – ” Geralt started to ask, but then Jaskier was sinking his fingers in his hair and he stopped, closing his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathed, “That feels – good.”

Jaskier scratched gently at his scalp, “When I was younger, my mom would do this for me after I had a nightmare,” he explained, quiet, “It always helped put me back to sleep and usually I wouldn’t have another nightmare afterwards.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, never opening his eyes.

Jaskier smiled, biting the inside of his cheek, and combed his fingers through Geralt’s hair, which was always so unfairly soft. Geralt shifted with a sigh, and Jaskier went back to scratching his scalp, which was the _real_ good spot, apparently, because Geralt let out a groan.

“How do you feel?” he asked, ignoring the heat in his belly. He was being a good friend, dammit, not an animal.

Geralt took a moment to answer, “Tired.”

“Good,” Jaskier said, meaning it, “Get some rest.”

Geralt took another moment to say, “But what about you?”

“I’ll sleep after you’ve fallen asleep,” he explained, “Don’t worry about it.”

Thankfully, Geralt didn’t put up much of a fight after that. Soon he was limp, snoring lightly, in Jaskier’s lap. Jaskier leaned back against the closest tree. It was an uncomfortable, stiff position but there was no way he was jostling Geralt and waking him up.

Soon he fell asleep, too.

When he opened his eyes, it was early morning and Geralt was sitting by a fresh fire, roasting something over it. Deer, Jaskier realized idly. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and – “Geralt,” he said, suddenly remembering last night, “How did you sleep?”

Geralt looked over, and he almost looked _shy_. The world was surely ending. “No nightmares,” he said, gruff, “I even woke up early and caught us breakfast.”

Jaskier wanted to make a big deal out of it ( _it worked!_ ), but he knew that was exactly what Geralt would _not_ want. He stood up and walked over, joining him. He warmed his hands over the fire, “I can do it again tonight,” he said eventually, aiming for casual.

Geralt stiffened for a moment before he said, “You don’t have to, Jaskier.”

“But I want to,” he replied instantly, meaning it. “Let me do this for you, Geralt. Think of it as… payment for all the times you’ve saved my ass, free of coin.”

One side of Geralt’s mouth quirked up in amusement. He finished roasting the deer and handed a stick to Jaskier. “Okay,” he said, rough. “If you want to.”

Jaskier nodded and accepted the stick. “I want to,” he said again.

For a few minutes, they ate their deer – wonderful breakfast food, _not_ – in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. Jaskier was licking his fingers clean when Geralt said it, almost too quiet to be heard over the roaring fire,

“Thank you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier looked over at him and smiled, bright. “Anytime, Geralt.” And he meant it.


End file.
